¶A dittie In the worthie praise of an high and mightie Prince.
WHen heapes of heauie hap, had fild my harte right full,
And sorrow set forth pensiuenes, my ioyes away to pull:
I raunged then the woods, I romde the fields aboute,
A thousand sighes I set at large, to séeke their passage out.
And walkyng in a dompe, or rather in dispaire,
I cast my wéeping eye a side, I saw a fielde full faire:
And lokyng vpwarde than, I spied a Mount therein,
Which
Flora had euen for her life, dect as you haue not séen.
Then could I not but thinke the same some sacred place,
Where God or Goddes such did dwell, as might releue my case:
I sat me downe, for whie? Death could but stop my breath,
And to a man so sorrowfull, what sweter is then death?
No sooner was I set, but slepe approcht mine eye,
Wherein the Nymphes of
Helicon appeared by and by.
And straight those sisters nine, the ground of Musicks arte,
My thought did striue who might preuaile, to ease my heauie harte.
The cunning they shewed there, the subtile notes they soung,
As w
t a wrest clene from my hart (my thought) the cares they wrong:
Celestiall were the notes, which then (amazde) I hearde,
Their ditties eke were wonderfull, note ye whome they preferde.
As for thy bloud (ꝙ they) right noble we confesse,
Thy pettigrée (to long for vs) the Heralds can expresse.
But happie happie Duke, the second chylde of Fame,
Which (next vnto the highest) she doth so recoumpt the same.
And happie Thomas ones, twise happie Norffolke toe,
Thrise happie men that leade your liues, where Howard hath to doe:
Which Howards happie daies, they praied God to encrease,
Thrée times the space of Natures course, like
Nestor liue in peace.
What age hath séen his like, so frée of purse and toung?
Where liues a iuster Iustice now, though rare in one so young?
What plaint can there be tolde, to his most godlie eare?
But that he kepes the other styll, the blamed soule to heare?
In mekenes he more meke, then is the mekest Doue,
Yet is his secret wisedome such, he knoweth whome to loue:
In fréendship, he surmounts
Gisippus and his
Tite,
All Nobles may well note his race, and thereby take their lighte.
In peace a
Salomon, in warre so stoute a Prince,
As raigned not tyll
Hector came, nor liued neuer since:
Then
Sceuola, more firme, which for his cuntries turne,
His hand from arme before his foes, in fierie slame did burne.
He in the pride of peace, delights in marciall showe,
Doe marke his turnoys vpon horse, note well his vse of bowe.
Nay marke him yet that shall, note well his paynefulnes,
No sugred slepe can make him fréend to sluggish Idlenes.
What that becomes a Prince, in his good grace doth want?
In peace, a courtier for the Courte, a second
Mars in camp.
Thus styll they soung, whose notes were cause of my reléefe,
And I be wrapped in a Traunce, had cleane forgot my gréefe:
And triple were my ioyes, ones, cause my paynes were past,
And twise agayne, because that Prince amongst vs here is plast.
I clapt my handes for ioye (alas) I wakt withall,
And then my muses and their songes, my ioyes were gone and all.
And then retournd my gréefe, I felt a further care,
Because to shew what I had séen, did passe my power so farre:
And that a man vnlearnd, of arte that hath no skyll,
Should haue a charge so great as this, and could doe it so yll.
Yet thus I gan to wright, I knew right well that he,
Which due desert did thus commend, should shade the want in me:
To whome I pray the Lorde, to send like yeares a
Noye
In happie health and quiet state, to his and all our ioye.
¶
FINIS. Ber. Gar.
¶Imprinted at London without Aldersgate in little Britaine, by Alexander Lacy.